


And this is going to be (the best thing we've ever seen)

by juxtapose



Series: Must've Done Something Right (We should get jerseys, 'cause we make a good team) [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, M/M, Steve and Tony talk about FEELINGS, why can't i write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juxtapose/pseuds/juxtapose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final part of the "Must've Done Something Right" series. Steve and Tony have a long-awaited conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And this is going to be (the best thing we've ever seen)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's it for this little series! I'm certainly not done writing for Steve/Tony--as long as you all relatively enjoy it, that is. If you've managed to get through all five parts of this little series, I commend you. Thanks as always to Dani for reading this over!  
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, as per usual

Occasionally, throughout the span of his lifetime, one experiences what is often referred to as a Defining Moment. A moment in which, whether expectedly or not, one finds himself in a flurry of heartbeats and thoughts that piece irrevocably together in the realization that everything is about to change.

Steve Rogers felt this when he first lifted his shield as Captain America.

And, this night (quiet--almost empty, waiting to be filled with words; buildings around and below almost leaning in to listen), he feels it once more.

Things are going to change, starting now. Now, with Steve breaking the silence:

”You‘re impossible, Tony.”

Accompanying each syllable is its own echo, and the words bounce off his lips to circle around Tony. Steve is starting to wonder now if what he’d said had been the best approach to this inevitable conversation. But it’s too late now.

Nonetheless, Tony just grins his Cheshire cat grin. “That’s what they all say. Well, other than ‘you’re an asshole,’ and the ever-popular, ‘you’re an _extremely attractive_ asshole.’” He lifts the glass in his right hand to his lips. The faint scent of scotch floats in the air. “Banner tell you I was here?”

“Yeah. I . . . I wanted to talk to you. Y’know. A _real_ talk. I just need . . . I think we need . . . to sort this out. Between you and I.” He shuffles his foot against the pavement a little, then clears his throat, forcing himself to look Tony in the eyes. Steve takes a few unwavering steps closer so the space between his body and Tony’s is thread-thin. _It‘s now or never_ , Banner had said. And he‘s right, Steve thinks. “I’m done beating around the bush here, Stark.”

Tony nods a little. “Yeah. Right, um, that's why I was looking for you earlier--”

“--And you better not start with the ‘it’s no big deal’ business, because--”

“--Rogers--”

“--it’s getting old, now, and really starting to grind my gears." Steve throws his hands up, beginning to pace. Tony follows him with his eyes, a combination of bemusement and a little frustration tugging at his features. “We’re running in circles, and you know what, Stark?”

“Um, _Cap_ \--”

 _Now or never._ “You’re selfish, arrogant, and most of the time you’ve got an emotional maturity level of a five-year-old."

“Um, by ‘talk' earlier, did you mean ‘psycho-analyze me', because--”

“You’re a lot of things that drive me crazy, Stark." Tony opens his mouth again to say something before promptly shutting it again, thinking the better of interrupting whatever Steve’s about to say. Cap crosses his arms, ducks his head. Still pacing. Honesty burning through the sound of his voice. “But the thing is--the thing I keep coming back to, is that _you_ reached out to _me_ , when I . . . got a little lost. It was you." Gesticulating madly, he continues his back-and-forth path in front of Tony. “I . . . hell, I’m awful at this. Um, well . . . In the time I’ve been here, no one has gotten to know me the way you have--granted, it’s been through annoying the living daylights outta me at every chance you got, but you’re the only person who’s tried enough to understand what the hell’s going on in this head of mine."

It takes quite a lot to render Tony Stark completely quiet, but Steve thinks he’s just managed it. He waits for Tony to interrupt, but after a beat, decides he’d better vocalize every thought running across his mind before this adrenaline wears off. “I couldn’t leave my past in the dust," he goes on, “and I was afraid of the future. But you reminded me of the present, and grounded me there. I was at a standstill, and you got me moving again." The surge of determination that had been coursing through Steve earlier is quieting more and more as each piece of his confession unfolds, spreading out between them, a blaring display on the rooftop of Stark Tower for all to see.

Tony remains silent as Steve finishes with a lump lodged in his throat: “Ms. Potts--she’s swell. You’re going to marry her and that’s . . . great. But I just. I wanted to get all of that out in the open. Okay?"

Silence.

Steve can’t--won’t bring himself to match Tony’s eyes. He stares resolutely at his worn-out running shoes, his face burning with embarrassment and a little bit of regret as he wonders if this--doing the right thing, trying to be honest--had all been for naught.

And then Tony Stark’s gravelly voice breaks through the thick air, illuminating everything: “I called off the engagement.”

Steve abruptly looks up. Tony is not analyzing him. Tony is not trying to figure him out like he would a mechanism in his shop. His eyes are a quiet glow, reflecting that of the moon, his expression a strange, yet warm invitation. Steve blinks. “Come again?”

“It’s what I was trying to say before, Steve. Which, by the way--people don’t usually talk over me. It’s usually the other way around. You’ve clearly got a talent. Anyway.” He repeats: “I called off the engagement. Well, no, that’s a lie." He brings a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “Pepper called it off, but skillfully made it seem like it was my idea all along so as to keep my manly reputation in-tact.”

Steve frowns, stricken with surprise. “Oh . . . God, I’m sorry, Tony.”

But Tony shakes his head. “No, see, here’s the thing. Here’s my problem that’s _been_ a problem for months now. I’m not. I’m not sorry at all.”

“What?”

“Pepper and I talked things over. Our relationship has changed since she click-clacked into my life with her astonishingly pristine high-heels and attempted to sort it out." It’s Tony’s truths, now, that scatter before Steve, new, cool--like a fresh rainfall. “I said it didn’t mean anything--what was happening between you and me. But my biggest issue was that it kinda did. Mean something. You with your values and your doing things because they’re _right_ threw me for a loop.” He reaches out, drink-filled hand thrown accusingly in Steve’s direction. “And it was _annoying_ because you weren’t shoving it in anyone’s face, you just _were_ the way you were, and by doing that you just managed to bring out the best of this mismatched group here. And I guess that’s why when you showed up at my place, after Loki and the Chitauri and all of it . . .” He runs a hand over his face. “It just felt _ridiculous_ how you didn’t know that what you do is as important as being Thor with his hammer or Banner with his smashing. So I took it upon myself to make sure you knew. Because I’m so nice.” He adds the last bit in a rush to make light of his previous words, but he knows Steve is no fool.

So he pauses, looking almost--dare Steve think it--sheepish, big brown eyes bigger than ever. And Steve replies, simply, “I knew it.”

“What?”

“Tony Stark does care.”

Tony laughs a little bitterly, shrugging. “Newsflash: I may have the ability to be particularly charitable when I feel like it, but I’m still me." He gestures down at himself. “This is who I am." He glances down at the ice in his drink. “Pepper may have changed, and maybe you have, working things out in the big bad modern world. But. I’m not, like, suddenly Ghandi or anything. I haven’t changed.”

“But you have.” The blue of Steve’s eyes darkens a little with seriousness. “The Tony Stark I first met, the Stark who argued with me relentlessly on that damn Helicarrier--he’s not the same guy who played that song for me. Or got in the way of a falling building to save my life. You _care_ , and that scares you sometimes, but it shouldn’t. Because it’s always been part of who you are. You’re just horrible at showing it. But you care.”

Steve half-expects Tony to counter what he’s just said, or to blow it off with a joke. But instead he grins a little, rolling his eyes. He shuffles forward, and Steve lets out a small _oof_ as Tony walks him up against the doorway from which he’d burst just a few minutes prior. “Shh.” Tony breathes against Steve’s neck, “Don’t tell anyone.” This combination their intimate closeness and Tony’s puffs of breath tickling Steve’s nape breaches the walls each man had built round themselves, and now they are exposed, unadulterated, open, each their space wonderfully, warmly invaded.

“Won’t. Promise.” Steve finds himself smiling, too. The tension of unspoken imbalance between them has lifted, and a comfortable, sweet-warm lull hovers around them for a tiny moment, until Steve whispers, “Can we do this, Tony? Can we be . . . this?”

Tony licks his lips. “Hmm. Two lost superfreaks with lots of deep-rooted issues involving dark pasts. Seems like a recipe for disaster.” He grins playfully. “Which is why we most definitely _can_.”

“Tony--”

“We’re two lost people who managed to stumble into the right direction and find each other. Which kinda makes me think that together, I mean, between the two of us, we might not be so lost in the end.” He furrows his eyebrows. “Wow. That was deep. I should write that one down." His tone sobers a little, for the unavoidable question: “But, I mean, do you want this? Do you want there to be an ‘us’ for the foreseeable future?”

Steve leans forward slightly, his lips ghosting against Tony’s face, just barely touching the stubble there. “Here’s the thing." The bridge of his nose meets the warmth of Tony’s neck, and he lingers there. “I had to leave the people, the life I cared about behind. And they say history repeats itself. But I realized I don’t want to let it. Not this time, and not to me. I want to keep moving forward. But you’re the one thing I have now that I don’t want to leave behind. Ever. Because the . . . the fact is, I think I’m stuck on you, Stark. In a dangerously permanent sorta way.”

Fondness dances in Tony‘s eyes in a way that makes his eyes crinkle. “Oh, golly, Cap. Are you gonna buy me a sodapop and call me your best girl?”

“ _Tony._ ”

“I’m kidding. _Kidding_. Oh. I think I just ruined a moment. Let me fix that.”

And with that, all conversation, all words-tripping-over-words finally stop as their lips meet, and Steve thinks he hears Tony throw his glass to the ground behind him with a clatter (and it is _so very like_ Tony, such an obnoxious gesture), but he doesn’t care because he’s too busy slinking an arm around Tony’s waist and half-moaning into the sensation of Tony’s fingers in his hair.

“For the record.” Tony’s voice is breathy, hot, low, bordered with a hint of laughter. “I’m kinda stuck on you, too.”

Steve blinks stupidly, the imprint of Tony’s lips on his still bright and raw. “Right," he mumbles, “Yeah. Good," before promptly snatching Tony by his ostentatious suit jacket and kissing him again.

Yes--this is what would be considered by many to be a Very Big Defining Moment.

Because here, as the stars blaze endlessly on, two heartbeats--one frozen and unfrozen in time, the other half-artificial--become new, however physically broken they may seem.

Things are changing.

But at this rare point of clarity, apparent to the both of them as their shadows meld together in the blissful quiet, is the realization that it is change for the better. That everything just might--for once, for one happy moment stripped of what-ifs and maybe's--simply fall into place.

* * *

When they eventually break the news to the rest of the team (because it’s pointless not to, especially since Nick Fury and his one eye have managed to observe quite a bit more than anyone with two in the past so he’s bound to find out anyway), the reactions are as follows:

Banner just shrugs (exchanging a particularly significant look with Steve), Natasha calls to Clint on the other side of the room with a, “You owe me ten dollars” at the same time he shouts, “Fuck,” and Thor claps Steve and Tony on the back in “good tidings” on their “actualization of the desire to copulate with one another.”

The point is, it’s all fine. It’s almost so amazingly, fantastically fine that cynical Tony questions it for a while, waiting for it all to go wrong. But Steve manages to quell those fears with a mere look most times--blue and honest and trusting and _perfect_ , saying _We can do this. You’re not alone_ \--and those thoughts fall away from Tony’s mind, cleansing his erratic stream of consciousness. And if Steve needs some of that reassurance once in a while, too, reaching out for Tony’s hand after a long day of battle or even just under the table at dinner, Tony doesn’t complain. 

Because at the end of the day--whether trudging in battered suits of armor on the streets of New York, or basking in the silver quiet nights they spend bare under the sheets--they are side-by-side.

And in this way, once lost, Steve Rogers and Tony Stark are finally found.

_"If anyone can make me a better person you could_  
All I gotta say is I must've done something good  
I came along one day and you rearranged my life  
All I gotta say is I must've done something right  
I must've done something right" - Relient K 


End file.
